


Cold Bargain

by Tinderbox of Sanity (Sephielya_J_Maxwell)



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, M/M, Rough Sex, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1542137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sephielya_J_Maxwell/pseuds/Tinderbox%20of%20Sanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was this really it? Is this how he would die? Not torn apart by hounds or stung to death by bees? He could have been devoured by spiders a dozen times over, torn apart by tentacles, impaled by an angry tree root, or even overcome by those freakishly aggressive frogs. Wilson had even survived nearly being trampled by angry beefalo! Even the pigs which could be his friends for a while were deadly on a full moon. He’d yet to figure out the biological reasoning behind such transformation—what a waste! Wilson was just too angry to die like this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Bargain

Due to an unfortunate series of events entirely out of his control, Wilson was dreadfully unprepared for the first day of winter. For one, by his best estimate, it was about a week early! The air had been getting steadily colder, but the unexpected blizzard had caught him by surprise. At least a day away from his camp, Wilson was stranded in the fierce winds. Snow and sleet felt like needles against his face whenever he attempted to press on. His nose and cheeks were numb, but his ears burned and pricked with pain, as his comfy crafted hat having blown away hours ago. He’d been hunting rabbits in the first place, stocking up, but his lack of success had led to him staying in this area longer than he otherwise would have. After a torturous three or four hours, he couldn’t be sure, shivering under a pine tree, the snow had finally stopped.

 

His fingers were nearly too stiff to grip the axe as he cut the bottom branches from the tree. Leaving the smaller branches attached, he then set about chopping at some of the larger ones. By the time that he set about trying to dig holes for the two thick branches he’d chopped, he was sweating, yet his face, hands, and feet were stinging with pain. He could remember mocking those who said they would rather die by freezing, because ‘you just went numb!’ What a joke! The capillaries on the surface of your limbs constrict, sending blood coursing away from your skin and towards your torso in order to keep your vital organs functioning. This happened to hurt like hell. Now and then his fingers would lock up, and he had to breathe on them heavily in order to move them again. Idly, Wilson wondered what he would do if he lost any fingers or toes. Managing to prop the logs up, his shoulders and neck were so tense that he could barely begin to tie the ropes from his pack to the branches he’d cut. Just raising his arms was painful! By sheer will to live, Wilson succeeded in finishing his makeshift lean-to shelter. The wind had been blowing from the east, the direction of his camp, and so the opening faced the west.

 

As the light faded from the sky, Wilson began to feel the chill of his sweat-dampened clothing starting to sink in. With nearly useless fingers, he put together the fire pit from the rocks he could scavenge up, placing the thickest, least snow-dampened logs and twigs that he could into it. The hard shivering set in as he tried to light it, making the process rather difficult. As the first tiny flames sparked to life, he felt his heart beat a little faster. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, tucking his hands under his arms and curling up beside it. Every second that he watched the fire fight to grow larger, the damp wood hissing, only prolonged his agony. Just as it grew large enough for him to lift his hands to it, little white flakes of snow began to fall around him. The heavy silence that surrounded the lone survivor was like a pressure on his aching ears.

 

_I’m not going to make it. Not this time._

The thought had invaded his mind several times this day, but this time he was unable to push it down. As he scooted back into his shelter, Wilson felt his hope draining like a bucket with a giant hole punched into it. Lying down on his side, he lifted his hands to breathe on them again, his lips so numb that he couldn’t even feel them when he licked them. The scruff on his chin felt rough against his palms, and he was only glad that he could feel it at all. He could keep the fire going to ward off the creature that came in the darkness, but he would be utterly helpless against anything else. And that was if he could move to add twigs to the fire! Night was long in the winter, and the temperature would only drop from here. The clouds of breath in front of his face became smaller and smaller, as even his lungs had begun to ache.

 

 _I don’t_ want _to die. I’m not done!_

 

Wilson thought frantically.

 

 _I was prepared. I probably could have gone without those damned rabbits for a while. I thought I had time. But then, I suppose we always think we have more time. Not here. Never here. Expect the unexpected, expect the worse, expect to_ die _._

Opening his eyes, he stared longingly at the fire. He couldn’t even feel the heat from here, even though it was burning healthily, even in the snow. Was this really it? Is this how he would die? Not torn apart by hounds or stung to death by bees? He could have been devoured by spiders a dozen times over, torn apart by tentacles, impaled by an angry tree root, or even overcome by those freakishly aggressive frogs. Wilson had even survived nearly being trampled by angry beefalo! Even the pigs which could be his friends for a while were deadly on a full moon. He’d yet to figure out the biological reasoning behind such transformation—what a waste! Wilson was just too angry to die like this! His own clothing began to feel cold against his already chilled skin, and he cursed the very fact that he had allowed himself to sweat. But what other choice had he had? Just as his eyelids began to grow heavy, they snapped open again.

 

“ _Mm,_ ” Wilson was distressed to discover that his lips hardly wanted to move, let alone move his jaw in order to speak. “ _N-axwell._ ” It was the best that he could manage. “ _‘axe’ell._ ” Wilson swallowed hard, licking his benumbed lips again and again. Could that demon hear him if he thought it instead? Wilson even bit down on his lower lip, but it felt swollen due to its loss of sensation.

 

 _Is this what you wanted, Maxwell?_ He challenged. _I know that one mistake can lead to a grisly death here, but this just isn’t fair. Is this your way of saying you’re tired of me? You cheating bastard_!Wilson’s anger was short-lived, as a violent shiver racked his body, renewing the pain of his stiff muscles. The scientist’s body was fully reaching mild hypothermia, possibly not-so-mild. No, this couldn’t happen! _Please, if you can hear me, please help me._ He wouldn’t apologize for his earlier outburst because he wasn’t sorry. _I’ll do anything, alright? Just don’t let me die like this, not like this!_

 

The hissing and crackling of the fire was the only sound aside from Wilson’s shallow breathing and occasionally clattering teeth. He sniffed, eyes burning with tears that wouldn’t fall, feeling helplessness overwhelm him within moments. Either Maxwell hadn’t heard him, or he didn’t care. It didn’t matter, as it looked like he was going to die here anyway. He missed his little cabin back in New England, where he could sit by the fireplace and listen to the radio between his experiments. That warm fire, the pressure of the heat on his face, and oh—a nice full stomach! He even missed the very family that he was estranged from! How pathetic was that? If this, if that, a dozen of his life’s choices had led up to this. None of them mattered, not now. He was never going home, he’d already accepted that. But there’d always been that tiny, nearly insignificant little light of hope somewhere deep down inside of him. Until now, that is.

 

If only he could work up the courage to get up and grab his axe. He’d rather die quickly as opposed to this slow and agonizing death. Curled up in a ball, analyzing each stage of his hypothermia, until it reached the point that he began to forget things, and he could no longer process words. Closing his eyes slowly, Wilson began to contemplate whether this was the train of thought that he should be taking. Wondering if perhaps there was still some way that he could make it through this, if… if…

 

Even with his eyes closed, Wilson could see the light of the fire. That light went out all at once, just an instant before warmth enveloped every inch of his body. Opening his eyes, all that he could see was darkness, and there was something laying over him. There was no mistaking it, as the next breath that he took gave away just what it was, and whom it belonged to. Wilson had never before welcomed the stench of those cigars. The man who owned the coat laying over him sat down behind him, and he heard the branches of the lean-to rustle slightly as a tall body stretched out, pressed against his back. Wilson was only glad that the coat was covering his head currently, so that he didn’t have to look the demon in the face just yet. He allowed the subtle warmth of the coat to sink into his skin, slowly stilling his violent shivering. His hands and feet still lacked most sensation, but they’d begun to sting as the blood returned to them.

 

“Say pal, don’t I deserve a ‘thank you’?” Maxwell’s voice spoke up from behind him, and Wilson sighed from under the coat. The heat of his breath would normally feel suffocating while covered like this, but right now, it only felt relieving.

 

“ _Thank you._ ” The scientist mumbled, though not without a hint of disdain.

 

“We’ll work on that.” Maxwell concluded, and his hand patted Wilson’s shoulder over the coat. The scientist couldn’t help but notice that there was unnatural warmth emanating from the coat. Not only did it keep his body heat inside, but he felt as if it actively warmed his aching limbs! Of course, it was probably just his imagination; as such a thing was impossible. Once he could move his fingers well enough, Wilson slowly pulled the coat from his head. He gasped for fresh air, cold or not, though the sudden chill was enough to make the shorter man press back into the warm body behind him. “Why Higgsbury, I never took you for the cuddly type.” Maxwell taunted, and Wilson tensed. Even as he tried to pull away, the demon’s hand slid under the coat. The scientist couldn’t do much but wiggle a little as it tugged his shirt from his trousers where it was tucked, but he went still as soon as he felt those feverishly hot fingers against the bare skin of his side.

 

“H-how are you so _hot_ out here?” Wilson gasped in surprise. That gloveless hand slid around to his stomach, and he shuddered.

 

“You’re hot-headed, I’m hot blooded.” Maxwell chuckled, spreading his fingers out, and dipping his fingers underneath the band of Wilson’s trousers.

 

“Th-that doesn’t m-make any, _hah,_ ” Wilson closed his eyes, attempting to curl up tighter in order to prevent that hand from going any lower. Maxwell shifted his tall body, moving down enough that he could speak into Wilson’s ear.

 

“Easy there, pal, I’m warming you up. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” The demon’s breath was hot as it ghosted over Wilson’s ear, pulling out a shudder from the smaller man.

 

“I didn’t ask for _that_.” Wilson protested even as he began to relax. It certainly would be a good way to generate heat, but only if he wasn’t left in the same predicament he’d gotten himself into earlier; sweating and in the cold alone. “Is this because I owe you for showing up?”

 

“Shouldn’t you owe me _for_ this?” Maxwell’s lips brushed his ear, and the demon’s teeth took his earlobe captive for a sharp nip. Flinching, Wilson only tried to carefully pull his head away. When Maxwell allowed it, the scientist gave a short sigh.

 

“What kind of backwards logic is that?” Wilson muttered. The notion that he would owe this demon _for_ sex was preposterous! Yet strangely, in the event of almost dying, Wilson found himself quite predisposed to allow Maxwell to continue. It was already dusk, and he needed the demon in order to stay alive throughout the night. He could hate Maxwell for it later. Swallowing hard, the scientist cast away his reluctance and slowly uncurled his legs and un-tucked his elbows. “Then, continue. As much as I hate to admit it,” the scientist winced, “I need you. Just for tonight.” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t traded his body for survival before, but it didn’t make it any less degrading. “And it’s an equal exchange. I won’t owe you anything.” As much as he hated bargaining, it had to be said.

 

“You got yourself a deal, pal.” Maxwell chuckled, pressing his soft, warm lips against Wilson’s neck. The scientist closed his eyes, biting his lower lip as the demon’s hand slid up instead of down. His shirt and waistcoat lifted a bit as those heated fingers crawled under them, tugging upwards as they ascended to his chest. Wilson gave an involuntary groan when they found one pert nipple, amazed at how good the heat of those fingers could feel against his cold flesh. Maxwell only pulled back so that he could speak quietly into Wilson’s ear again, “Say pal, you could use a shave.” The demon nearly muttered. Wilson gave quite the unattractive snort of laughter, struck by the absurdity that Maxwell would complain about such a thing as stubble.

 

“Did it scratch that big nose of yours? Serves you— _ow_!” Wilson arched his back as his nipple was pinched, breath catching in his throat. Maxwell let go, and the scientist shuddered as the sore bud was then rubbed at the same time that the older man’s hot, wet tongue traced the shell of his ear. So it wasn’t the smartest thing to provoke the demon, but that never seemed to stop him. If he couldn’t keep his dignity, he’d at least keep his pride, or some semblance of it! Maxwell’s hand moved, his nails dragging stinging lines down the front of Wilson’s chest, drawing out a high whine of complaint from the scientist, who pressed back into the taller man in an attempt to escape them. He held his breath as the demon’s hand reached his trousers again, but those nails were blessedly absent as they were swiftly undone. Maxwell didn’t always care if Wilson enjoyed himself or not, but as he’d promised to ‘warm him up’, it wasn’t a surprise when those unnaturally long, slender fingers brushed against his member. “ _Oh,_ ” Wilson breathed, allowing his eyes to slip closed.

 

The deathly chill from earlier seemed like nothing more than a bad dream, and Wilson’s breath had grown shallow within moments, fingers curling into the coat. It was easy to become aroused by those pleasurable ministrations when he didn’t resist, and as much as it killed him inside, he wouldn’t dare test Maxwell’s patience right now. Maxwell’s lips returned to his neck—stubble or not it seemed, the demon’s tongue bathing a patch of pale skin as his fingers wrapped around Wilson’s member, stroking him swiftly. That was only seconds before he sank his teeth in to the scientist’s neck, and Wilson’s body jolted with surprise. “ _Let go_!” Wilson’s words only came out as a whimper, his elbow jerking back into the demon’s ribs. “ _This isn’t what we,_ ” he stopped when Maxwell relented his bite. The demon chuckled as his tongue traced the indentations that his teeth had left behind.

 

“We never agreed that I’d be gentle.” Maxwell pointed out, and Wilson only grunted in protest. Of course. A deal with Maxwell only went so far as the loopholes that the demon could find! Mentally admonishing himself, he still felt a brief sense of loss when the older man let go of his now humiliatingly full arousal. Both of Maxwell’s hands moved down, grasping Wilson’s hips to turn them none too gently, tugging his trousers down to about the middle of his thighs. He shivered as cold air rushed in under the coat, and his skin met the cool ground under him. The demon retracted his left arm, using it to prop himself up behind the scientist once again. As an atheist, Wilson rarely thanked God, but he was tempted to some days. Such as when those blessedly _slick_ fingers slid up to rub against his entrance.

 

“I’m not _—oh,_ fighting it.” Wilson tensed as the first finger slipped inside of him, his gut twisting when his body reacted favorably to that simple violation. His body must be desperate for something other than the suffering that it endured on a daily basis, that’s all. Wilson had a dozen more reasons for his body’s betrayal, but none of them made him feel even a little better.

 

“That’s your choice.” Maxwell answered simply, his rich voice right against his ear. And that was the worst of it! Yes, he had a choice. But that was to _live_ or _die_! Not much of one at all. The demon’s breath had grown shallow, and each primal gust of it across his aching neck brought out nothing but strangely pleasant sensations.

 

“ _D-damn it,_ ” Wilson cursed as the second finger began to wiggle inside. He hissed at the sting it caused, lifting one arm up and bending his elbow so that he could at least rest his head comfortably. Clenching his teeth, the scientist merely resigned himself to staying silent. It was a vow which would be broken within moments, as Maxwell’s fingers pressed just right, and pleasure flooded Wilson body when his prostate was brushed.

 

“I told you before, didn’t I pal?” Maxwell murmured into his ear, his voice bordering on tender, which was a stark contrast from his words. “Your life, it belongs to _me_.” The demon started to slide the third finger in, but it was a tight fit, and Wilson’s breathing grew shallower. “Your death will be determined by _me_.” A gentle kiss was placed on Wilson’s temple, and the younger man almost missed the winter chill as opposed to this oppressive heat. “Starving,” Maxwell thrust his fingers in as deeply as they could, evicting a sharp gasp and a shudder of pain from the smaller man, “Freezing,” another thrust of his fingers, and Wilson bit his lower lip, “Murdered by my pets,” one more kiss, just behind Wilson’s ear, “Or even heat exhaustion.”

 

“G-get on with it.” Wilson muttered through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to hear any more! He received a bite to his ear and a particularly harsh thrust of the demon’s fingers for that, though he stubbornly refused to make a sound other than a short whimper through his nose. The demon gave a scolding click of his tongue.

 

“You can do better than that, pal.” Maxwell admonished. The merciless thrusts of his fingers changed again, pressing to bring back that terrible, unwelcomed pleasure. Wilson’s back arched, and the heat under the coat began to feel more suffocating than comfortable.

 

“ _Ha-ah, please_?” Wilson panted, shifting his hips only to go still when it worked against him, causing Maxwell’s careful aim to dislodge. This only led the demon to start thrusting them again instead, earning a few sounds of displeasure from the scientist, only muffled by turning his face into the arm he rest on.

 

“Is that all?” Maxwell asked expectantly. The demon’s favorite game seemed to be forcing Wilson to ask for something he never wanted in the first place. Wilson could only endure the careless thrusts of those three fingers forcing their way into him repeatedly for so long, and they both knew it. This wouldn’t even begin to end until he broke, and he hated himself more each time that he gave in.

 

“ _P-please, hss,_ ” Wilson flinched in light of a particularly, unnecessarily harsh jerk of Maxwell’s hand. Turning his face away from his arm to un-muffle his voice, Wilson tried again, louder. “ _Please just, just put it in, inside already_!” he cried, heedless of the volume of his voice. He only wished that it had come out with more anger, and less desperation. He gave a shuddering gasp of relief when those fingers pulled back, leaving him panting raggedly, and already a bit sore.

 

“Was that so hard, pal?” The demon’s honeyed voice asked, and Wilson clenched his right hand into the dirt, biting the inside of his cheek to withhold his retort. Maxwell didn’t really need an answer anyway, as like most of his taunting questions, it was rhetorical. The older man sat up now, leaving a slight absence of warmth that Wilson could feel even with the coat still covering him. He refused to look over his shoulder as Maxwell opened his own trousers, glaring at the fire instead. Though it had gone down a bit, and the sun had dipped low behind the trees, he wasn’t too concerned. Though there was a small possibility that Maxwell wanted one last lay before he allowed Wilson to die, the scientist clung to some twisted form of trust that the demon wouldn’t allow that to happen just yet. The lower half of the coat was flipped up without warning, and he gasped from the shock of cold air against the over-heated bare skin from his waist to his thighs.

 

“C-cold!” Wilson barely had time to exclaim before Maxwell’s right hand slid under the scientist’s right knee, forcing it to bend upwards, which pulled the trousers down to his ankle on that leg. The demon’s knee came to rest between Wilson’s now spread thighs, the younger man’s hips slightly turned.

 

“It won’t matter in a moment, pal.” Maxwell assured, his left hand coming to rest on the ground behind Wilson’s shoulders as his right guided him into place. “Just concentrate on staying relaxed for me.” He ‘suggested’, and Wilson consciously released his chapped lower lip from his teeth. He’d bitten it on accident before because of this, and the last thing he needed was to entice the demon with a little blood. Instead he only clenched his teeth, sucking in a swift breath as the head of Maxwell’s member began to press into him. He was almost thankful that the demon had stalled so long by using his fingers to tease him, because in the end, it made the process a little easier. He only exhaled once he felt Maxwell’s hips press against him, but the reprieve was brief. The first thrust was enough to jolt his significantly smaller body, and the ones that came after were no gentler. Wilson turned his face into his arm again, biting down on his sleeve and muffling the cries that were forced from him with each thrust. Maxwell’s right hand came to rest on the ground, over the coat in front of Wilson’s chest. The silence of the snow-covered forest was disturbed only by the vulgar sounds of sex, overpowering the gentle crackle of the fire.

 

Dirt slid under the scientist’s nails as he curled his fingers into it again, doing his best to stay relaxed as Maxwell had said to. Oh but it was nearly impossible not to tense for some of those merciless thrusts! Whether he gave in or fought it, it would always end the same. He told himself this was a special circumstance, but the unwelcome truth was that it would only happen again. As long as he was here in this world, Maxwell held absolute power over him. Nothing proved it quite so much as being fucked into the cold ground—literally. When Wilson was forced to release his bite on his sleeve in order to breathe, clouds of white filled his vision as that humid air hit the cold. He could feel the dampness of his saliva on his sleeve, but it was of little consequence right now. “ _Hah, nnh,_ ” no matter how he clenched his jaw, the thrusts which caused his smaller body to jerk with each one also pushed the breath from his lungs, often accompanied by a short cry or a whimper through his clenched teeth.

 

The cold air against his face did little to cool the heat that seemed to radiate from it, Wilson’s naked thighs damp with sweat, yet riddled with goose bumps from the chill. In contrast, he felt smothered by the heat under the coat still covering him from waist to neck. What arousal that the scientist had gained from Maxwell’s earlier teasing hadn’t left him completely, but it was only a matter of time. The demon’s pace was thrown off quite suddenly, his thrusts becoming shallower but no less rough as he reached his climax. Wilson only gave a dry sob of relief once they came to a stop completely, trembling from his shoulders to his toes. His legs felt like jelly, and he doubted that he could stand even if he tried right now. Maxwell leaned down, his breath still heavy, his nose pressing against Wilson’s temple as he spoke into his ear.

 

“ _Good boy_.” The demon praised, sending a stab of mortification straight through Wilson’s chest. He hadn’t done as he was told in order to be _good,_ he’d done it to make it possible to walk at all tomorrow! Maxwell gave a snort of amusement in light of Wilson’s quiet grunt of displeasure, and the older man pulled out slowly. The demon moved his knee out from between Wilson’s thighs, and the scientist allowed his right leg to be pulled out straight again. He flinched in his trousers were tugged back up, moving however he could to aid in this process, even as he dreaded the fact that the demon’s seed was still inside of him, and would inevitably find its way back out again sooner or later. The coat was flipped back over his clothed legs, and Maxwell reclaimed his place lying behind the younger man. “Now, about your reward.” Maxwell’s hand slipped back beneath the coat, to Wilson’s still open trousers, causing the scientist to flinch as he touched his half-hard member. “I’m impressed, pal! Enjoy some of that, did you?”

 

“H-hardly, _ahh,_ ” Wilson’s hips moved forward instinctively as Maxwell began to stroke him back to fullness.

 

“Could have fooled me, doll.” Came the reply, dripping with smug amusement. Wilson chose to close his eyes and concentrate on what little pleasure that he could achieve from this. Purely physical, much like their twisted mockery of a relationship. It didn’t take long before he was panting again, his exhausted body shuddering with pent-up lust. Pressing his shoulders back into Maxwell, tipping his head a little, Wilson gave himself over to pleasure completely. Call him what he will, but Wilson was nothing if not an opportunist. After being essentially pinned down and made use of, he lost no more dignity in letting the demon finish him off by his hand. Wilson gave a shuddering whimper as he came, hating just how weak that it sounded to his own ears, but he could really care less for the blissful moments that followed. At last, Maxwell pulled back his hand. Pulling a handkerchief from his suit’s pocket, he wiped off his hand before offering it to Wilson. The scientist reached out of the coat to snatch it, pulling it back to safety quickly, as Maxwell laughed. Wiping himself off, Wilson lowered his left arm in order to close his trousers. He raised the left again, offering the handkerchief back. Maxwell took it, tossing it into the fire. Wilson watched as it dissolved into a strange black smoke, frowning as he lay his back down onto his folded arm. “You look a bit worse for wear. Why don’t you grab a few winks while I bask in the afterglow?” Maxwell ‘kindly’ offered. Wilson glanced over his shoulder, his brows showing his true fear.

 

“You… You really won’t leave?”

 

“How can you ask me that, doll?” Maxwell’s expression was painted with offense. “After you so sweetly said you needed me earlier!” The reminder brought heat back to Wilson’s face, and he turned his gaze back forward. Forcing himself to close his eyes, he couldn’t bear to ask any more questions, least he find more backhanded insults rubbed in like salt to his wounds. He tensed when he felt Maxwell’s fingers brush through his hair, but after about three strokes without incident, he began to relax. He was never truly safe when he was with Maxwell, as this world’s greatest threat came from the man himself. The demon wasn’t a guard dog, he was a warden, and everything here ran by his design. Pure exhaustion won out in the end, and strangely, Wilson slept better that night than he had in a very long time since arriving in this dreaded place.


End file.
